


Nothing Personal, Jack, It's Just Good Business

by Aubreylia (orphan_account)



Series: Detectivebent [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Trollstuck, Eridan is a whiner, F/F, F/M, Karkat is also a whiner, M/M, karkat's awful language, rose is tired of quadrant shenanigans, rose wishes for a nice trauma victim to scare better, sollux is secretly a whiner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Aubreylia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose: Be the Psychologistician ==></p><p>You are the best Psychologistician the world has ever seen, attached to the Police Department in the largest coastal port on Alternia. It's entirely too bad your patients are anything but treatable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue, In Which a Setting is Introduced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a quote from Pirate of the Caribbean

In the basement there is the archives. 

In the back of the archives there are the Stacks. 

The Stacks are where documents go to die, in drifted piles of folders, miserable columns of unsafely stacked file cabinets, and the occasional cairn of boxed evidence. They are attended to solemnly by trolls whose names no one knows. The archivists are flitting ghosts, blood colors indistinguishable in their baggy, dark sweater vests. Their horns are by necessity small; to knock over one of the titular stacks is to die under a landslide of paper. 

There's a bin of balls of string by the door, and a damn good reason for them: getting lost in the Stacks could mean fetching up against the brightly colored and cheerfully awful door of the Psychologistician. 

There is a sign beside the door that has hung beside every psychologistician's door for ages untold. 

It says, in bright, bloody colors, 'Come in any time!'.

It's a point of pride with Rose that not a single troll has come in without being expressly summoned.


	2. Chapter One, In Which Karkat Attends the First Appointment

“No, it really can't be that goddamn difficult to POINT THE GODDAMN WAY.” 

Rationally, it was probably some sort of protocol that the archivists couldn't tell him which way it was to the Psychologistician's office. Rationally, taking his frustration and ever-so-slight case of the nerves out on the hapless trolls was, perhaps, cruel. Rationally, he should just get his pathetic ass in gear and subject himself to psychologistical misery already. 

But he kept getting turned around in the musty maze of paper and he swore there were _things_ skittering around the corners before he could quite see and he just wanted to find the goddamn way. 

The archivist in front of him ducked and sniffled and croaked out apologies through a film of coppery tears. Karkat sighed in annoyance and awkwardly patted him in the shoulder. The troll flinched away and booked it, sobbing. 

“Fucking perfect.” Karkat muttered, picking a direction at random to strike out in. There were drag-marks on the floor, and he was resolutely not thinking about what had dragged a fully grown troll like that.

~O~

It took him an hour and a half to find the door to the Psychologistician's office, with its colorfully lettered sign. Twenty minute of that hour and a half had been spent crouched under a box that smelled disturbingly of formaldehyde while some... _thing_ sniffed around outside.

It seemed he was going to be doing a lot of careful not-thinking, then. 

He had never considered the rules of the precinct to be things that applied to him, and so had avoided studying them. Unfortunately, that meant he had no idea how to approach the Psychologistician. 

He decided that no, fuck that noise, rules were bullshit anyway, and pressed an ear to the door. 

She seemed to be having a conversation, though he couldn't hear the other side of it. All he could hear was the low murmur of her voice. He couldn't even make out her words. He huffed in annoyance, then slapped his hand over his mouth. 

There was a pause. 

What a fucking cliché way to get caught, he told himself angrily. 

“Do come in.” Rose's voice was smooth and sweet and utterly terrifying. 

Karkat gave up all hope of surviving the appointment and opened the door. Rose looked up and Karkat savored the first and likely only time surprise would ever be discernible on her face. 

She had been holding a conversation with a skull. A skull with an average set of horns, bleached very nicely, and helpfully labeled 'Belgarath'. 

She set it back on a stand in the corner and beckoned him in. 

“Terezi did not inform me that she had sentenced anyone to my office.” Rose lifted a disapproving eyebrow and wrote a note on her clipboard. Karkat shamelessly read it upside-down and promptly winced. It was a reminder to have a Talk with Terezi later. 

“I can't come down on my own?” Karkat aimed for flippant and missed by a couple of miles. He landed squarely in the territory of nervous accusation. 

Rose gave him a _look_. 

Karkat deflated and scowled. 

“I flipped her desk.” he muttered. He could just tell that she was noting his 'aggressive tendencies' in her head. He scowled some more. He had 'aggressive tendencies' because people were utter taint-licking morons, not some sort of psychologistical bullshit. 

“What in particular infuriated you this time?” Her smile was about as warm and inviting as a long walk across broken glass. Karkat took refuge in recalcitrance, crossing his arms. 

“The fucking arson case.” he muttered before descending into more incoherent mumblings. They had overtones of blasphemy that Rose politely didn't notice. She gestured at the chair in front of her desk, indigo and opulently cushioned. 

Karkat rudely ignored it. The chair had the look about it of a bear trap. 

“Feel free to sit anytime.” was Rose's sole comment. 

“It's not like I asked to be here.” he snapped, scuffing a foot against the ominously clean floor. It made him feel like a wriggler but there was absolutely nothing about the situation remotely comfortable, so it was mostly a passing annoyance instead of an incitement to wrath. 

Her impressive set of horns nearly scrapped the wall when she tilted her head back. Karkat tried not to look at them jealously. He didn't want to give her any more fuel for his apparent 'horn-envy'. Whatever, like he needed horns to prove his superiority to the world. 

Shit, she was giving him a _knowing look_. He remembered why he hated visiting her all over again. She seemed to be able to read his mind and know what he was feeling before even he did. No one was allowed to know what he was feeling before he could figure it out. Fuck Rose's knowing looks.

Ducking his head, he muttered an inaudible 'fuck you' under his breath to make himself feel better. 

Rose's knowing look had acquired a tinge of amusement by the time he looked up. 

“Regardless, I imagine you would have discovered a way to escape the obligation if you so wished.” she made a gesture that someone that didn't know her could possibly construe as placating. Karkat sat down reluctantly. There didn't seem to be much choice. 

“What do you wish to discuss?” she asked, settling back into the first stance of the psychologistician, Ominous Listener. Rose prided herself on her orthodox adherence to the tenets and precepts of the Alternian Psychologistician Association. 

Karkat didn't notice, too busy scowling ferociously in every direction. 

“Not my feelings.” he pronounced, tone of utter disdain comparative to that of a Victorian ladytroll confronted with something slimy. “And not fucking quadrants either.” he added quickly. 

“This leaves us precious little to discuss.” Rose told him gently, shifting into the stance of Guilt-Inducing Admonishment. If she recalled correctly, Karkat had a guilt-complex a mile wide. 

True to her observations he went an interesting shade of gray-green and curled into a fetal position, muttering unhappily into his knees. Considering this progress, she decided not to comment on the fact that he was getting his dirty shoes all over the seat of her chair. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order, concerning the... drug bust.” Work seemed to be the only topic not covered by Karkat's ban that could be used to pry anything he didn't want to share out of him. 

Karkat unfurled and blinked, distracted. 

“How the ever-loving fuck do you know about that?” he asked, incredulity robbing his voice of his intended venom. Rose graced him with a look of veiled censure. 

“It is _hardly_ a secret. And you are quite loud.” she gestured up at the ceiling. Karkat followed the gesture with his eyes and began doing some desperate calculations in his head. 

Rose's office was against the west wall of the basement, and Karkat's desk was a room away from the west wall of the building... 

He spent his day _right over the hell-bitch's head_.

“You can hardly be surprised.” A note of incredulity that didn't sound planned had entered Roses voice. 

Karkat made a strangled noise. 

Then he bolted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Martial Arts of the Alternian Psychologistician Association are very serious business. Sometimes trolls don't take too kindly to being scared better. The stance Kindly Remind of Lusus Issues is surprisingly and devastatingly effective.


	3. Interlude, In Which There Is the First Sign

The first sign that Rose's world was going to hell had been a knock on her door. 

The harbinger of her doom was average in every physical way. Average horns, average height, average position on the hemospectrum. 

He had buckteeth, she had noted. They were exposed in a cheerful grin. She had needed to spend a moment deciphering the emotion behind it, as no one had ever come in with that expression before. 

That had been the first Sign. 

And then he had come _back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The average number of appointments per person for Rose is 1.5, with a small percentage making it to their third appointment. At the third appointment Rose will give you a lollipop. There are twenty flavors, but they're all in your blood color.


	4. Chapter Two, In Which There Is an Impromptu Appointment

The archivist was booted through her door with a certain sadistic cheer that she could respect on a professional level. The poor rust-blood was crying and getting snot-stains all down the front of his ink-stained, argyle sweater. 

Eridan Ampora stamped through the door, dusting his hands off cheerfully, smelling faintly and pervasively of seawater. 

Rose exchanged distressed glances with Belgarath before standing and nodding professionally. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” She settled her hands on her desk, in the stance of This is a Bad Time But I'll Help You Anyway. It was one she'd never had to use before, and she doubted it would be any use against this particular troll, but the structure helped her not to commit homicide at the breaking of her 'no unannounced visitors' streak. 

The precinct frowned upon the murder of their informants, and his multiple hidden knives would be more trouble than it would be worth. 

“Come in any time. S'wwhat the sign says, ain't it?” he asked, peering with a bit too much interest at her horns. 

“Yes.” she moved to ushered the archivist gently out, mindful of the legendary amount of mucus being excreted. “I am well aware of what the sign says. Eridan-.” She began, then stopped. It wasn't often she found herself at a loss for words. “I do not believe you work for the precinct in any official capacity.” she decided to say. 

“Yeah, an your point bein'?” he asked, flicking the end of his scarf absently. He wasn't even paying attention to her, really. Too busy examining the decorations of her office with a scrutiny that seemed, somehow, completely inappropriate. “I got problems needin' listenin' to same as anyone.” 

“Continue, then.” She decided at last. 

Eridan flopped into the chair across from her, leaned forward with a heartfelt sigh, and rested his elbows on her desk. 

She lifted her left eyebrow in icy disapproval. He took no notice, continuing to stare soulfully into space. Her right eyebrow joined its fellow, this time in reluctant admiration. Even John had noticed her eyebrow, if only to the extent that he realized that his elbows were being rude. 

She let out a silent, long suffering sigh. 

“Terezi wwas tellin' me all about howw you help people with problems, an' she suggested I test the wwaters.” Rose decided it wasn't too much of a stretch, then, to declare her streak without unannounced visits unbroken. She was rather proud of that streak. 

Rose wrote herself another little note to have a Talk with Terezi. There was a world of difference between forgetting to mention a sentenced appointment and sending _Eridan Ampora_ to her office. 

“What is troubling you?” She said after setting down her clipboard and assuming her customary first stance. Eridan was reading the note upside down and not even bothering to hide it. 

She coughed discreetly and tapped the clipboard meaningfully. Eridan was not suitably impressed but at that point Rose was simply happy he had removed his elbows from her desk in order to drape tragically over the arm of his chair. 

“It's eatin' at me.” he sighed. He spine was bent at an angle that looked extremely uncomfortable, though he gave no sign he had even bothered to notice. “An' I just got no idea wwhat I should fuckin' _do_.” 

Rose calculated the wave of her hand to convey 'Do Continue' with subtle shades of 'Get On With It'. 

“It's ruinin' my business wwith how I ain't able to quit thinkin' about it!” His voice had taken on a self-pitying lilt that simply reeked of fabrication. 

He actually _put the back of his hand to his forehead in a dramatic fashion_. 

Rose came within inches of rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

“I cannot help you if you do not communicate to me the nature of the problem.” Eridan was informed. 

He looked faintly annoyed at being interrupted in the midst of his monologue, spending a moment huffing and rearranging his scarf fussily. Rose wondered if he was even bothering to try to hide the 'concealed' knife in it. 

“I need help wwith Fef.” He said abruptly, looking truly uncomfortable for the first time. With a little smile Rose remembered why she loved her job. 

“In the area of quadrants, I imagine.” 

“Wwhat wwe got is concilliatory an' all, no mistakin', but sometimes...” He trailed off and traced something elaborate on the arm of her chair, scowling irritatedly. Rose almost prompted him to continue before he decided to finish his sentence. “She looks so damn fine.” 

“Is it so imperative to put your relationship in a single quadrant?” Rose asked delicately, finding herself drawn into Eridan's issues despite herself. “Flushed-pale reacharounds are hardly unheard of.”

Eridan stared at her for a long moment as if she had proposed noon as a lovely time for a stroll. 

“Puttin' it in one quadrant is the fuckin' _point_.” he finally told her with the air of someone having to explain a simple concept for the hundredth time. 

That was quite enough for any Psychologistician to put up with, she decided, and stood. 

The stance she took was one of her favorites, The Ultimatum. It was one of the final stances taught, as the nuances of fear needed to properly force a troll to take advice were so complex. There was a touch of frisson in the air that makes Eridan shiver. Rose congratulated herself on a job well done. 

“If you refuse to take my advice then I find our time to be... wasted. You may feel _free_ to leave.” her tone is a masterpiece intended to play on fear of authority and inferiority. 

It's times like these Rose knew that reason she loved her job, and Eridan's look of surprise and indignation was it. 

The absolutely obscene numbers written on her paycheck were gravy. 

There was a long, silent conversation entirely in the language of eyeballs. Eridan mentioned casually that he had an intriguing number of hidden knives on his person. Rose reminded him that he was suggesting violence against an opponent that was, in fact, Rose. Eridan put forth that his position as informant to the precinct was too valuable for her to kill him. 

Rose smiled her little smile and speculated on the myriad ways a troll could be made to _wish_ for death without receiving such a blessing. 

There was something like respect in Eridan Ampora's eyes when he huffed and cocked a dashing hip. 

“Yeah wwell. Don't think wwe're done.”

The way he exited the room could only be described as 'flouncing'. 

“I am unsurprised at the number of assassination attempts upon that man.” She commented quietly to her skull. 

The skull said nothing. It would be a sad day when he did. 

Rose smiled and patted Belgarath's smooth cranial doom. He was such nice company. Very quiet, easily ignored, and always there for her. She wondered that more trolls didn't have skulls of their own to converse with. 

Terezi _would_ warn her next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eridan is one of those awful house-guests that touch all of your delicate nick-nacks, eat all of your food, and provide commentary on your cleaning.


	5. Interlude, In Which There Is the Second Sign

The second Sign had been when, after the fourth appointment, Rose _still_ hadn't managed to make him run from the room, much less start crying. He kept chattering about his life and making jokes about how Karkat thought no one could tell he actually had feelings and trying to _prank_ her, of all things. 

She really had tried, too. Pulled out all her psychologistical stops. 

She had brought up lusus issues – _no, his lusus had always been a pretty great authority figure despite his propensity for cakes_ – abandonment issues – _no, no one had ever left him behind in a grocery store, that was silly_ – and even inferiority complexes - _what do I possibly have to prove, honestly?_

John had absolutely no issues. 

It was a psychologistical nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a pond near John's old hive that has been rendered toxic by the sheer volume of cake he's dumped in to avoid eating it.


	6. Chapter Three, In Which Karkat Attends a Second Appointment and Narrowly Avoids Discussing Quadrants

Terezi had warned her this time. 

She had done her research and was quite prepared to handle Karkat now. 

~O~

Karkat burst through her door, panting and scrambling to slam it behind him. For a long minute he leaned against it, ignoring the skeptical look Rose examined him with. Some _thing_ sniffed around on the other side of the door for a moment before wandering away. 

“The archivists are contractually obligated to keep them from eating you.” she told him. 

“And what the fuck _are_ they?” he asked desperately, still breathing harshly. 

“Policy is unfortunately unclear on the subject of limbs, however.” she mused, feigning deafness. “I would apologize to the brown-blood you offended, were I you.” 

“I didn't-!” Karkat tried to say indignantly. He was cowed by a quiet eyebrow. “...Fine.” 

There was a long five-minute shuffle in which Karkat situated himself sulkily in his chair and Rose again didn't possess enough fucks to tell him to get his feet off the fucking chair. Then there was a shorter, but somehow infinitely more uncomfortable silence in which Karkat attempted to burn the building down with the fiery, destructive force of his hate. 

“Why the feculent fuck are we sitting in utter silence?” Karkat asked with the _totally_ unfounded sense that he was falling into a trap. 

It snapped shut with the satisfied little smile he was learning to loathe. 

“At the end of our previous appointment you exited the room at haste. I believe the phrases 'hell-bitch' and 'never coming back' were used, though I doubt you intended me to hear.” Rose offered dryly. Karkat glanced at the ceiling with just a hint of abject misery. 

“Terezi made me.” He muttered sulkily. “I threw some coffee on her desk.” 

Rose inclined her head and Karkat realized the opening he had given her way too late to save anything. 

“Then I suppose the first item we can discuss is your tendency towards aggression.” He can practically _hear_ her triumph, though she sounded exactly as serene as always. 

“Yeah, how about a nice steaming pile of fuck. That. Shit.” Karkat settled deeper into his chair with a sulky scowl. Rose leaned forward and gave him the slightest curl of a close-lipped smile. 

“What would you like to discuss, then?” she asked. Karkat tried, for a moment, to figure out what it was, exactly, about her voice that made grown-trolls want to piss their pants. 

And then it got worse. 

“Would you find your quadrants an acceptable line of inquiry?” 

This was asked in a tone of voice reminiscent of a gangster tossing a really sharp knife from hand to hand very casually. Karkat opened his mouth to spout something doubtless loud and liberally sprinkled with the word 'fuck'. 

Rose opened fire with both barrels. 

“You do not have a moirail. You _do_ have a recovering clown sopor-addict currently baking a truly impressive quantity of pies in your kitchen. You do not have a kismesis, but your hatred for Strider has achieved nigh-pornographic levels. You don't have a matesprite but your partner with the lisp seems to be the only one capable of standing you day in and day out and he remains the sole individual with the ability to extract an apology from you!”

Rose sat back with an expression that, though neutral, somehow radiated triumph. Karkat's mouth hung open, thoroughly shell-shocked. 

“How did you know about the pies?” he asked lamely a long minute later. 

Rose smiled her little close-lipped smile again. He ducked his head and muttered something suspiciously like 'should have expected'. 

“I find it somehow doubtful the pies were the point I was attempting to make.” She informed him with a certain laconic irony. 

“ _Quadrants_ aren't the fucking point either.” he snarled rebelliously, picking irritably at his claws. Discomfort rolled off him in near-palpable waves. 

“Unless we can agree on a suitable alternative, I'm afraid the thorny issue of your relationships is our only recourse.” Rose tapped a pen serenely against her clipboard and Karkat realized. Shit. Rose could hold _grudges_. 

He could grow a bulge and suffer through the talk about Gamzee and Sollux and _fucking Strider, christ_ \- which, no – or he could throw something else out for Rose to rip apart. 

He chose the path less paved in douchery. 

“How about my...” he swallowed and braced himself, “...anger issues?”

“Excellent choice.”

~O~

Half an hour of tortuously avoiding confessing to anything that would make the process worse later, Rose sat back and scribbled a note he was too tired to read onto her clipboard. 

“I think that's quite enough for one day.” She smiled as he scrambled upright. He registered what she implied with a flinch. 

“I thought Terezi only sentenced me to one of these.” 

“You'll be assigned another.” 

“I'm sorry.” he tried desperately. The words dragged on the way out but it was better than having to go to another appointment. 

Rose smiled, and for the first time her even, white row of kitten teeth peeked out. 

“I think we will cover that in our next visit, then.”

The door closing did little to muffle Karkat's scream of rage.


	7. Chapter Four, In Which Kanaya is Encountered and Too Many Screaming Orgasms Are Consumed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose's first thought upon meeting Kanaya can be translated into 'Oh no she's hot' except with more purple prose. And more ornate description of her posterior.

On the desk of the Troll Resources Department's secretary there was a box labeled Suggestions. Rose was quite aware that the contents were used as cage-lining for the Department Head's lusus, but she took idle pleasure in submitting suggestions for a subterranean entrance to her office and then sending passive-aggressive memos to the whole department about it. 

The reason for her suggestion caught her as she entered the building, far too early for any sane troll to be there. 

“Madam Lalonde, if I could beg a moment of your time?” 

For an instant Rose felt quite faint. 

The line that rose to her lips was _Darling, you can beg for me anytime_. Rose had found since the beginning of her employment that her thoughts were... _unruly_ around this particular troll. 

What she actually said, however, was: “Oh course, Madam Maryam.” 

Kanaya Maryam was five feet and seven inches of slender, understated, delectable ladytroll. Rose permitted herself a moment to be quite consumed with quiet lust. If she permitted herself several moments after that, well. That was between herself and her imagination. 

“This way, if you please.” Her smile was well-groomed and perfectly polite as she conducted the way gracefully into her office. “I do hope you do not mind my interruption terribly.” 

“While I assure you the pleasure of our conversations remains-,” Rose congratulated herself smugly for the line as Kanaya tinted a few shades to the jade end of the spectrum, “-I imagine your urgency to denote a more professional capacity. What concerns you?” 

“I am concerned.” There an ever so slight hesitation. “About John.”

Not even Kanaya leaning her appealing hip against the desk distracted Rose from the dread welling at the name. She did save the torrid imagery it brought to mind for later, though. 

“What of him?” she asked

“He has been... missing work recently.” Rose was very sure that 'missing work' was code for something. She was also very sure that knowing what it was code for would do her exactly zero good. 

“He _has_ missed an appointment recently. An unprecedented occurrence.” Rose admits grudgingly. 

“It is his twenty-eighth appointment, is is not?” Kanaya asked carefully. Rose did _not_ miss the subtle emphasis on the number. 

“It is endemic to trolls such as John to be... difficult to work with.” Rose felt quite proud of that sentence. It was a masterpiece of deflection and didn't mention anything personal. 

Kanaya gave her a significant look. It said 'Not Fooled'. 

Rose gave her a significant look right back. It said 'I Will Go To My Death Before I Tell You About It'. 

Kanaya sighed and got up. 

“I was afraid of such. It seems I am left with no choice but to take the matter of an investigation upon myself.” She threw back as she left. 

Rose bit back _I possess other things you could take upon yourself_ with some difficulty and sighed. Such was the tragedy of lovelorn trolls such as herself. 

She made sure to keep an eye on the pert behind as it sashayed away and found that she had to fan herself. 

~O~

Either Terezi was in a good mood or Rose was in better form than usual because by noon she had cleared all of her appointments. And contrary to the opinions of the entire precinct sitting alone in her office passively being the Horror in the Basement got a little boring. 

Her antsy feeling had nothing whatsoever to do with a certain supposedly missing troll. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. 

Thankfully one of the perks of being the aforementioned Horror in the Basement was the ability to leave the building whenever she wished, unquestioned. She did so, sweeping grandly past the peons and assorted idle officers, making very sure not to check if Kanaya was watching. 

The only roadblock to her plan of leaving the precinct in a grand manner was her utter lack of anywhere to be. The universe decided to take pity on her and someone knocked into her back just as the doors were closing behind her. 

“Hey there, sweet stuff.” Sheer incredulity made Rose turn. 

Sometimes she thought there must be someone arranging all these awful coincidences. 

“Hello, Strider.” her tone was perfectly polite and perfectly frigid. There was a moment in which her psychologistical skill actually had to struggle with his placid expression. Then he crooked the tiniest of smiles and she knew she had won. 

“Have you heard from John recently?” He asked. “He hasn't been around.” The tilt of his glasses indicated that he was peering around her to check for the troll inside. 

“No, I am afraid John has not contacted me recently.” Rose regretted the sour note in her voice, but only a little. “I find the number of people who believe I would know to be peculiarly large.” 

There was a pause in which a single eyebrow made a grueling half-inch journey higher on Dave's forehead. 

“Sounds like you got problems, hon.” Dave leaned against the door with only slightly feigned nonchalance. “Want to get a drink and tell Uncle Strider all about it?” 

Rose considered. 

“What is an 'uncle'?” she asked at last. Dave blinked behind his dark glasses. 

“I don't know.” he said at last, sounding a little put out. Rose decided to let it go. 

“I suppose a drink never harmed anybody.” she allowed. 

“Let's go then, Gigantor.” Rose automatically diagnosed both Napoleon Complex and horn-envy.

“Your height is perfectly av-.”

“Save it for your patients.” 

~O~

Dave had assured her that drinking in a bar you owned was totally classy and an indeterminate number of drinks with names like Screaming Orgasm later it was hard to argue. 

“He's gotta nice ass.” Dave told the bottom of his glass gloomily. 

Rose considered which of the hims he could be talking about, then took a moment to evaluate their asses and decided it didn't really matter who the posterior belonged to. 

“The veracity of this statement is undeniable.” she picked up her own glass and discovered it was empty. She set it down and joined Dave in gazing gloomily at glassware. 

“An', he like. Trips through life like a fuckin'. Deer. In shoes. Nice shoes.” Dave muttered, head sliding down to rest on the counter. Rose managed to focus until she could see only one of him. 

“What in seven hells are you on about, Strider?” she asked. Dave rolled his head enough that a rust-colored eye could peek balefully up at her. 

“Fucking John.” he replied with only the slightest of slurring. 

Oh.

“Oh.” she said. She hesitated, then echoed the sentiment. “Fucking John.” 

Dave turned a genuinely malevolent eye to her. She didn't notice, morosely spinning the glass in her hands. 

“Psychologisticians aren't _supposed_ to wax pale for patients.” she continued. He relaxed. She still didn't notice. 

“S'what I said. He jus trips in an' lands right face-first in your _feelin's_.” Dave made an expansive gesture that almost ruined the precarious balance he had achieved on his stool. Rose watched with interest. “An' then. What can y'do, even? Cos', it's _John_.” 

“He's managed twenty-eight appointments. Twenty-eight. It's disgraceful.” she chimed in mournfully. Dave acknowledged this with a shrug and a blank look before turning and shouting down the bar at the curvaceous bartender. 

“Jade! I'm wastin' away a' thirst!” 

Rose took a moment to appreciate her truly significant hips as she turned around. 

Jade approached, waving a wooden spoon in a oddly threatening manner. 

“Dave, your accent gets worse the more you drink.” She informed him. He just stared soulfully back. She sighed. Rose contemplated comparing Jade's eyes to an ocean and decided she wasn't quite drunk enough for that. 

“One more and I'm cutting the both of you off.” She shook her spoon again. Dave's eyes crossed trying to track it. 

“Yer a cruel woman, Jade, I hope you know.” he told her hopelessly. She bapped him on the head and smiled affectionately. 

“Bitch, you love me anyway. What's it going to be, then?”

“Screamin' Orgasm.” Dave and Rose told her simultaneously. Jade shook her head and went to mix them, muttering about 'fruity people and their fruity drinks'. 

~O~

Hangovers were hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose's inter-office memo's are universally feared. _Universally_.


	8. Chapter Six, In Which a Decision Regarding the Egbert Situation is Finally Reached

Rose could have sworn she had cleared her morning in order to properly appreciate her monstrous headache and the fact that she told _Dave Strider_ of all people about her idiotic pale-crush, but apparently the lack of an appointment didn't stop Sollux from waltzing into her office like he owned the damn place. 

“Kk thent me.” he said by way of greeting. It was enough to lighten the heavy weight of the hatred she was beaming at him, but only a little bit. 

She really should give up on the idea of no one ever coming into her office without a monster or Terezi nipping at their heels; it was a pipe dream rapidly evolving into a nightmare. But she had been _so_ attached to that streak... 

“I can recall no reason for him to do so.” She might have said that more harshly than strictly necessary. Maybe. He deserved it. 

She wished she had stayed home sick. Her head hurt.

“Yeah well it'th about Jn.” 

In the second it took to recognize that 'Jn' was Sollux's odd was of pronouncing John's name she noted that he looked about as happy to be there as she was to have him. 

And then the name registered and she was really _quite_ sick of every troll in the universe assuming things about her and John. 

Sollux backpedaled as she smoothly stood, waving his hands in an attempt at placation. The hint of crackling red and blue around his fingernails was the only thing betraying how nervous she made him. It mollified her slightly. 

“You can abtholutely hop into your indignation boat and thet thail acroth the Outrage Ocean, but firtht can we talk?” he offered. 

Rose weighed the value of a psionic. Regretfully, a talented one like Sollux was too rare in law-enforcement to murder without at least some semblance of an excuse. 

“Fine.” She sat down.

He let out a sigh of relief with a lisping whistle to it that was really quite comical. 

“I imagine this must have something to do with the fact that John has been missing for almost two weeks now.” Twelve days in fact, not that Rose was keeping tabs or anything. 

“Karkat'th thtarting to worry.” Sollux admitted grudgingly. 

“I'm sure he's the only one.” Rose must have been more hungover than she thought; her ironic tone was actually detectable. 

Sollux gave a grimace of agreement, flashing a perturbing amount of sharp and disorganized teeth. 

“ _Everyone'th_ worried.” he told her sourly. “You know how John affectth people. Kk actually _liketh_ him.” 

“Could there be quadrant concerns?” Rose asked, sidetracked, striving to keep 'cool and professional' a thing she still sounded like. She was, after all, his psychologistician! She needed to know these things! 

Sollux's knee-jerk reaction of a snarl and the words ' _there better fucking not be!_ ' were reassuring. She shared a look with him and came to the silent agreement that John and Karkat were not allowed to pity each other, even if they didn't know it yet. 

“Anyway, Kk thayth that Kn wantth you to find Jn.” 

Rose spent a moment deciphering what he said and then another moment to be thoroughly irritated with herself for how her heart started fluttering as soon as Kanaya was mentioned. She was _not_ going to find John Egbert simply because an unreasonably attractive troll asked her to. 

“Fine. I shall attempt to find John.” She resisted asking about Kanaya for all of maybe half a second. “I'm afraid I shall require Madam Maryam's assistance in this endeavor.” 

Sollux thought his knowing smirk was subtle. Sollux thought _wrong_. 

“And I think I shall requisition your team's assistance as well.” 

It was petty revenge, but the speed with which all color drained from his face was the only joy in the situation that wasn't Kanaya's shapely derriere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sollux doesn't resent being Karkat's errand boy as much as he perhaps should.


End file.
